Attacked
by Emmy23
Summary: When a member of the team is attacked, the rest of the team will stop at nothing to find the person who did it. FINAL CHAPTER! note: second chapter is now spaced
1. A Night Out

Disclaimer: these are not my characters, although I wish they were… they belong to CBS

Summary: When a member of the team gets attacked, the rest team will stop at nothing to find the person who did it.

As Sara strode purposely down the hallway, carrying a pile of folders, she sighed.

It had been a hard, long, tiring night. They're had been a number of rape cases in Henderson that had been very disturbing. All the women had been raped, and then beaten to death. Sara had just matched a set of finger prints on the door knob to a rapist that had just been let out of jail after 20 years.

_I guess he couldn't wait until he just died,_ Sara thought angrily. The man had been diagnosed with cancer.

Sara walked into Grissom's office. He was sitting at his desk, deep in thought, looking at a thick folder, his chair slightly turned. Her heart did a little flip. Ever since she had met him, Sara liked him, and, as time went on, that crush grew into something more. Not wanting to surprise him, she tapped lightly on the door. Grissom's head whipped up, a startled look on his face. Once he realized who had shaken him out of his reverie, a flustered look came over his face. He turned quickly around on his chair and stuffed the folder in a drawer in his desk.

"Hey, Sara, did you match the prints in AFIS?" he asked, slightly breathy.

Sara, trying and losing to suppress a grin, nodded and said, "Yeah, they matched to an," she reading through the folder, "Arthur Masstraw, convicted of rape in the '80's and was recently released. He now lives in Henderson, in the same apartment complex as our vic," Sara looked up to see Grissom staring intently at her face. "Grissom?" Sara asked, uncomfortable with him staring at her. She shifted her weight to her other foot.

"Huh? Oh, right, err, ok, umm, take Warrick and Brass and head over there now," he said, seemingly more uncomfortable than when Sara walked in.

Sara glanced at her watch. It was almost end of shift. She relayed this to Grissom.

"You're maxed out on over-time," he said, slightly more comfortable, "we'll call that a day, and, at the start of next shift, go there with the guys." He nodded, reached over and grabbed a stack of tan folders and started reading them, or at least pretending to.

Sara felt a pinprick in her heart, but she was used to Grissom's abrupt way of speaking to her. She turned away and headed to the Evidence Locker to put the stuff away. Once she was done, she gathered up all of her things and headed to the front door, eager to get away from Grissom and the case. Outside her car, Sara thought about where she could go tonight, as she was not going to go back to her lonely apartment.

_Who cares where you go, _she thought to herself, just_ as long as it's away from him._

She hopped into her car and sped off to the Strip, to take her mind off other, more depressing, matters.

"Hey, Griss, have you seen Sara?" Nick said, sticking his head into Grissom's office.

Grissom looked up from a stack of reports.

"No, why? Is she not here?" he asked, trying to keep the concern out of his voice.

"Yeah, she was supposed to have breakfast with me and Catherine but we missed her," Nick's Texan voice edged with worry.

Pushing away alarming thoughts that were threatening to take over his brain, Grissom nodded slowly and said, "This morning, first thing, she was supposed to check out a suspect in Henderson with Brass and Warrick," Looking down at his desk, Grissom picked up a slip of paper. "You finished your case, right?" Grissom asked, "Because I've got an attacked/raped woman case downtown that needs looking at. Are you up to it?"

"Uh, yeah, sure I'll take it," Nick said, accepting the piece of paper, and was about to leave the room when Grissom called him back.

"And bring Greg."

Nick hopped out of the Tahoe and opened the back door to grab his silver field kit, as did Greg, on the other side. He crossed over the crime scene tape and looked around to see the detective. Once he spotted him, he raised and eyebrow in confusion. It was Brass.

"Hey, Brass, aren't you supposed to be with Sara and Warrick in Henderson?" Nick asked, walking over to the detective.

"Am I? Well, it helps if they tell me. They probably found a new lead and forgot about me," he mocked crying for a second before getting down to business. "Unidentified woman, approximately 35, brunette, raped and beaten, yet still breathing, was left and found here," Brass motioned to the surrounding ally, "at around 11 tonight by a late garbage man, who I already got a statement from. The woman was rushed to the hospital and is in emergency right now. All there's left to do is process the crime scene," Brass nodded to the two men and crossed back under the crime scene tape to talk to some police officers.

Nick turned to Greg. "Superiority means I get to chose and I feel like processing the crime scene. Have fun at the hospital, Greg, CSI Level 1," Nick snickered at his own joke and looked towards the crime scene.

"Fiend," Greg said under his breath and turned towards the Tahoe.

Once Greg got to the hospital, he had to wait for half an hour to get to the front desk and then another ten minutes for the nurse to check his ID and find the room the victim was in. when he finally got to the room the victim was in a stable condition and would fully recover. After Greg got the rape kit and fingerprints, shift was half over. Once he finally got to the CSI building, he rushed the SAT's kit to DNA and the fingerprints to Jackie; he was starving so he went to the Break Room. He wasn't even half-way there when his pager went off. When he looked at it, it was a 911 from Jackie. Frowning, he turned around and went back the way he came.

"Wow, that was fast, I can't believe that I beat you in DNA a couple of years ago." He grinned. They had raced the fingerprints and DNA in a case and when Jackie lost, she had to wear a crazy hat for an entire shift. Greg looked down at her, expecting to se her smiling a little, too. Instead, she wore a look of dismay on her face. Wordlessly, she turned the computer around to face him and pointed. Greg's eyes widened and his heart nearly stopped. He stared at the screen and, staring right back at him, that gap-toothed smile of hers plastered on her face, was Sara Sidle.


	2. At The Hospital Part 1 Arrival

Greg stared at the screen for what seemed like forever

Greg stared at the screen for what seemed like forever. He just stood there, not able to think anything but "Sara is the rape victim". That thought kept playing over and over in his head until he was dizzy.  
Jackie, pulling her eyes away from the screen, looked up at Greg, who looked like he was about to faint. Worried for her friend, she gently shook him. He stumbled slightly.  
"Greg, I need you to calm down enough to tell Grissom or someone," she said softly, seeing clearly that his emotions were fragile.

"Calm…Calm down?" Greg sputtered out, trying to comprehend what had happened to one of his very best friends and college, "Sara got raped and beaten and you want me to calm down?" he practically yelled, his eyes wild, looking around for someone to pop out and say that they were just kidding. No one ever popped out. "Can't you see that name on the screen? It's Sara's! No, that's impossible, impossible! You must have made a mistake. Run it again!"  
"I already…" Jackie started, but Greg cut her off.

"Dammit, Jackie, run the effing print again!" he yelled into her face. Jackie quickly obliged. It came up Sara again.  
"Again!" He yelled, more frantic than ever. Greg's world was slowly coming apart. Sara was always the strong one, never taking crap from anyone. This was not real, it couldn't be! Sara would fight back, for sure!  
Jackie was starting to get scared. Greg was normally the funny guy, and seeing him like this was very alarming. She clicked the button again. Sara Sidle.

"NOOOO! This is a dream, nightmare! Sara's impossible to hurt!" Greg's grip on reality was quickly weakening, and Jackie could see that. Her eyes never leaving Greg, she reached over to her cell phone and dialed Grissom's pager, 911. Doing all that she could, she reached over to Greg and put her hand on his shoulder.  
"Greg, it's going to be okay, everything's going to be fine," she said in a soothing voice, anxiously looking at the door for Grissom.

"FINE? HOW CAN ANYTHING BE FINE? SARA'S IN THE HOSPITAL!" Greg roared, and started pacing the room, mumbling to himself. "How can anything be fine? Sara's not here, she's not where she's supposed to be, and that's here, what was she even doing in that ally…?" Jackie looked at the door and sighed inwardly. Grissom was walking towards them, a puzzled look on his face. Jackie caught his eye and gave him a pleading look. Grissom quickened his step. When he made it to the door, he quietly opened it and slipped in. He noticed Greg right away, but Greg didn't see him.  
"Greg, what's up?" Grissom asked, trying to understand why this young CSI was acting so strange. Greg spun around.  
"You want to know what's up? THAT'S WHAT'S UP!" he yelled, tears streaming down his face, pointing at the computer screen. Grissom looked at the screen. Sara's face looked back at him. It took him a second to realize why this was so important.

Jackie realized her mistake instantly. All the lab techs knew about Sara and Grissom's relationship and calling him here was probably the worst thing she could have done.  
"Greg," Grissom whispered, way too calmly, "please tell me this isn't for Nick's case, the Jane Doe that got beaten and raped in the ally on the Strip?"

"Grissom…It is," Greg whimpered and sat down, head in hands.  
Grissom just stood there, not moving a muscle, barely breathing. His mind was still, except for one thought, "I need to get to Sara". Forcing himself to move, he twirled around and sprinted to the exit, startling both Greg and Jackie. He was out of the CSI building and in his car within seconds. When he got to the hospital, he practically flew into the building and dashed to the front desk, skipping the line.

Ignoring the angry protests of the people waiting, Grissom flipped open his badge and breathlessly said, "I need the room that the female rape victim from this morning is in, now."

The old woman at the front desk either didn't notice his hurried tone or didn't care,  
"Excuse me, Sir, but you'll have to wait in line, just like everybody…" Grissom cut her off.  
"Except I'm not like everybody else and neither is the patient, so could you please just tell me what room she's in?!" Grissom exclaimed, very angry and frustrated.

"Sir, would you please leave the building?" the old woman asked, her voice testy. It was not a question. It was a demand.  
Just then, Greg came running through the lobby at full speed, grabbing Grissom by the arm and dragging his boss after himself. Hastily, Grissom regained his composure and started running for himself, following Greg. Once they finally made it to the room, Grissom burst in and, surprising the nurse, ran over to Sara's bed and grabbed her hand.  
"Sara?" he asked softly, his voice cracking a little bit.

"Sir, she's not going to wake up. She just took some sleeping pills and won't be up for at least 3 hours, but she's going to make a full recovery. Are you her husband?" The nurse asked gently.

Grissom, not trusting his voice shook his head no. Greg knelt down on the opposite side, clenching Sara's other hand. The nurse nodded and slipped quietly out of the room.

After a couple of minutes, Sara groaned and rolled over, towards Grissom, freeing herself from Greg's grasp.  
Greg, sighing slightly, stood up, gradually stretching his weary muscles.  
"I'm going to page the guys and tell them to meet us here," Greg stated quietly, sneaking out of the doorway and leaving Grissom alone with Sara.

Out in the hall, Greg pulled out his phone and dialed Nick's number.  
Nick was sitting in the Break Room with Catherine when his cell rang. He picked up.  
"Stokes."

"Hey, Nick, it's Greg." Said the person on the other side. Sadness in the person's voice was evident and Nick, usually slow, caught on right away.

"Dude, what's up? Where are you? I've been looking for you forever." Nick said, holding up one finger to Catherine. She nodded and went back to peeling her orange.  
"I'm at the hospital." Greg sat down on a bench outside Sara's room and put his head in his hands.  
"What? What happened to you?" Catherine looked up, questionably. Nick ignored her.  
"Nothing happened to me, but do you remember how the rape victim was unidentified?" Greg asked, not want to have to be the one to break the news to emotional Nick.

"Uh, yeah, what are you getting at? Did you identify the vic?" His voice was getting more worried by the word. Catherine looked mildly annoyed and finished peeling her fruit.  
"Yeah, with her fingerprints, and it's a member of our team." Nick heard Greg sigh.  
Immediately, Nick breathed, "Sara?" Catherine dropped her orange and stared at Nick.  
"Yeah, Sara. Sara got beaten and raped in an ally-way! OK? God, how slow are you?" Anger strained his voice, but then died down. "Sorry, Nick, my nerves are at they're limits," he apologized.

"It's OK, man, I understand," Nick said, his always calm voice torn. "What room is she in?" Catherine was looking more and more confused and concerned. Greg told Nick the room number and hung up.  
"What happened? What did Greg say? What happened to Sara? Was she the rape victim? Please tell me I'm crazy for even think that?" Catherine pelted him with questions, and Nick tried to answer them the best he could after just having heard one of his best friends was attacked.

"We, me 'n Greg, went to a rape victim crime scene at start of shift, and she was a Jane Doe. Now, we know who she is. And she's on our team. And it's not you."  
Barely pausing, Catherine promptly got up and head to the front door.  
"What room did Greg say?" Catherine asked impatiently. Confused, Nick told her.  
She turned back to the door, then sighed and looked back at Nick. "Aren't you coming?"  
"Yeah," Nick said, catching on, "comin'." He leapt up from his seat and ran after her.  
They were at the hospital and in Sara's room in a matter of minutes.

"Oh, my god," Nick and Catherine said at the same time.  
"Sara, what did you do?" Catherine asked softly, kneeling down beside Grissom, who was now in a chair, but still holding Sara's hand.  
"Hey, where's Greg?" asked Nick after a few minutes.  
"Calling Warrick and Brass." Grissom stated softly, not taking his eyes off Sara.  
Suddenly, Sara's eyes started flickering. Grissom looked on with rapt attention.

Slowly, her eyes fluttered open. She looked at Nick and Catherine, uncertainty evident on her face.  
"Nick? Catherine?" Sara rasped, her mouth very dry. She was very confused. She couldn't think of any reason why two members of her team would possibly be in her bedroom. Trying hard to remember, it all came flooding back to her. The ally, the man, the pain. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to forget, but the images flared up against the back of her eyelids.  
"No, no, no, no, noooo," Sara moaned, shaking her head to clear the pictures. They wouldn't go away.

"Sara?" asked a voice beside her. She quickly opened her eyes, as she had not noticed anyone had been there.  
Grissom's face loomed over her, his sapphire eyes worried.  
Sara felt heat rise up on her face, although you could barely see it because it was so badly bruised.  
"How are you feeling?" he asked intently.  
Trying as hard as she could to keep the embarrassment out of her voice, she croaked, "Fine, fine. I can barely feel anything, I'm so numb."

Right after she said that, Greg, Warrick, and Brass walked hurriedly into the room.  
"God, Sara, what happened to you, girl?" Warrick said, striding over to her bed in two steps with the help of his long legs. Crouching down opposite to Nick, pity was apparent in his dark eyes. Sara looked past him, at Greg. His eyes were red tinged, so it looked like he had been crying, which he probably had been.  
Sara gave him a weak smile and then turned to Brass, who was standing in the doorway, his emotions hidden, his eyes and mouth blank.

Sara looked back to Warrick, but when she opened her mouth to talk, a croak came out, and her throat burned.  
"Somebody get her something to drink, now!" Grissom commanded, and Greg jumped up to go get some water.  
After a few seconds, Greg passed her a plastic cup of water. Sara mouthed her thank you and drained the cup.  
She coughed, clearing the phlegm out of her throat, and said to Warrick, "I really don't know. One minute, I was walking down the Strip, next, I was…" she stopped talking, the memory so clear it scared her. "I can barely remember anything because I was really drunk." A pounding started behind her eyes. She sighed and closed them, putting her world back into darkness. As if they were waiting for her, the pictures exploded on the back of her eyelids. Terrified she would start screaming in a second, she forced her eyes opened.

Warrick had never seen his friend so distressed before. He wanted to ask her more, but he knew that she would probably just get angry. From the look in her eyes, she probably wouldn't be talking to anyone about the attack for a while, especially not him. He saw tears welling up in her swollen eyes and threatened to drip over the edge. Sara's face was covered in red and purple splotches, along with the rest of the visible skin, although all her skin was probably bruised and scratched somehow. Bandages covered her arms, and, knowing how feisty Sara could be, they were probably from defensive wounds. As well as feisty, Sara was also proud, and so Warrick would bet that she utterly humiliated to be pitied by her peers. Warrick looked up and, when Sara wasn't looking, nodded to Nick and Catherine at the door. They both nodded in understanding and stood up.

"Sara, would you like anything from the vending machines, 'cause me 'n Cath are going?" Nick asked, stretching his arms above his head.  
"Um, no, it's ok, I'm good." Sara said quietly, looking up at his face. Warrick stood up on her right.  
"I haven't eaten all day, so I'm game," Warrick said, heading to the door. Subtlety, Warrick motioned to the door with his eyes for Brass and Greg to see. They caught the clue, but Greg shook his head. He wanted to stay.  
"Yeah, I'm sorta hungry myself," Brass said as he walked out the door, pushing Greg out ahead of him. Greg opened his mouth to object, but one look from Nick and he closed his mouth. All the team except Grissom piled out of the room and into the hallway, Brass closing the door behind them. Sara felt a chill run up her back, and it didn't have anything to do with being cold. Grissom was still staring at her, and she had no choice but to look back at him. Sara had no idea what to say to him.

Sorry I didn't tell you I got raped? Sorry that I got drunk?  
Sara had no idea what to say to him, and she knew she had to say something soon. The room was getting very uncomfortable.  
"Sara, what were you doing on the Strip after shift?" Grissom asked abruptly.  
The question caught Sara off guard, so she wasn't really thinking when she said, "Getting away from life," She opened her mouth to take it back, but Grissom beat her to the punch.  
"Getting away from life? What's wrong with life?"

Again, Sara answered the question without thinking, "Not life, the people in it."  
Damn it, Sara! What are you thinking? Think about it before you say it! Words never said never need be unspoken, Sara quoted as she waited for Grissom's answer.


	3. At The Hospital Part 2 Words

A/N: Sorry in advance, this chapter is kind of short... But I'm hoping they will get longer as time goes on!

"People? Which people? Me?" Grissom said, trying not to ask to forcefully.  
"Grissom, it's not up to you to tell me what to do with my life," Sara spat out angrily. Here she was, lying in a hospital bed, just having got attacked, and Grissom is getting all righteous on her.  
"Yeah, because you're so good at not making a mess of it yourself," Grissom said sarcastically, letting go of her hand and stood up.  
Until now, Sara hadn't even noticed that Grissom had been holding her hand.  
Leaning up on her elbows, Sara said, "Oh, like you are any good at having a life. At least I've been on a date in the last three years."  
"This has nothing to do with me, Sara. It has to do with you and your stupid mistakes! God, can't you understand that you can't just do whatever you like? There are rules!" Grissom said harshly, pacing the room.  
Sara gasped, as if Grissom had just slapped her. There was no way she was going down without a fight now. "What rules, Grissom? You may try to control me during work, but you have no right to control what I do after!" She said loudly. Grissom spun around and looked at her.  
"Rules? The rules are that you have to say safe and not let other people and things affect your judgment! Smarten up and use your brain, assuming you have one! You'd have to be mentally disturbed to go out on the Strip at that time!" Grissom was breathing hard after his long speech.  
Sara was breathing hard to, but because she was trying hard not to lose her temper more than she already had.  
"You know what, Grissom?" Sara asked rhetorically, "You expect a lot out of a person. You wanted me to get a life, and then you say that I can't do anything with even a hint of danger. You're a very confusing person. Maybe you shouldn't screw around with people, then drop them like a hot potato!"  
Grissom turned towards the door, knowing that if he looked at her he'd say even more stuff that he'd later regret.  
"Sara, there's no arguing with you now. I'm just going to leave and go back to the office, something you should have been doing if you hadn't been dumb enough to get attacked."  
Sara's temper, already frayed, snapped. She screamed as loudly as she could, trying to put as much emotion into it as she could. How could he say that? He had done enough rape-beating cases to know how easy it is to get jumped.  
She leapt up and, running on adrenaline, started pounding her fists on Grissom's back, wanting him to feel the pain she had felt.  
Grissom tensed his muscles and swung his fist backwards, his fist connecting with Sara's upper chest. Sara flew backwards and landed on the floor next to her bed on her side. She huddled there, all the fight gone out of her. She wept silently, curling up on her side.  
Grissom, eyes flashing, stood over her, feeling the adrenaline rushing through him. After a couple of seconds, it drained out of him and he was left feeling cold and empty.  
Suddenly, the door burst open and Greg tore into the room, eyes searching. He spotted Sara on the ground, crying, and Grissom standing over her. It took him a second to connect the dots.  
"Grissom, what did you do to her?" Greg cried, reaching down and lifting Sara's broken body back up to her bed. Sara put her head in her pillow once she got up to her bed.  
"I didn't do anything! She just got up and started pounding my back! I just pushed her off me!" He looked around for his coat, then, remembering that he hadn't brought anything, walked out the door without looking back.  
Greg looked back at Sara, and then sat down on Grissom's vacated chair. He put his hand on Sara's back. She was shaking and sweaty.  
"Sara, it's ok, he's gone." Greg started rubbing his hand up and down her arm.  
Sara sniffled and turned over, her eyes red and bright from tears.  
Greg looked her in the eyes, then, suddenly nervous; he grabbed the blankets from the end of the bed and pulled them over Sara.  
"Uh, here you go, don't want you to get cold or anything," Greg said, not meeting Sara's eyes.  
"Greg, look at me," Sara asked softly, sadly. Greg couldn't refuse. He looked.  
Sara leaned towards him, and whispered in his ear, "Thanks for saving me, Greg,"  
As she moved back, she moved her head sideways and brushed her lips against Greg's.  
Greg reached up his hand and held Sara's head in place, holding her tightly. She leaned back and said with a smile, "Hey, Greg, what are you doing, say, a week from now?"  
Greg grinned and said, "Absolutely nothing."


	4. Nightmares

Author's Note: Hahaha, okay, well, after someone suggesting that I should space my story better (which I totally agree with, 100!) I tried to do some spacing... tell me if it helps at all!

Thanks...

Sara was walking down the Strip, a misty haze everywhere. Sara was confused. There where no people anywhere, and the lights were all out. She wouldn't have even recognized it to be Las Vegas if she hadn't walked this street so many times. Sara kept on walking, not aware of where she was going, just that she had to keep walking.

Suddenly, a noise behind her. She whipped around to see what it was. Nothing was there. A little nervous now, she sped up. A crunching of old newspaper. She spun around again. Nothing was there. She turned forwards and screamed. Someone was standing right in front of her, in a black hooded jacket. Slowly, the figure pulled down his hood. It was Grissom. He had a horrible smile on his lips. Only two things had color in this terrifying nightmare: Grissom's sapphire eyes, glinting in the non-existent light.

All of a sudden, he leapt forward and grabbed her by the arms, throwing her down onto the dirty side walk. He kneeled down on top of her, and started slapping her, and pummeling her with his fists. She cried out, but no one could hear her.  
Suddenly, out of no where, things that Grissom had said to her that had meant a lot to her started coming from everywhere: "Since I met you" "Honey, that doesn't look good" "I don't even have to turn around, Sara Sidle," "I'm not letting you risk my CSI" "Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to do nothing,"

Abruptly, pictures started to follow:  
Grissom and her, studying a maggot-infested pig together, side-by-side, sipping hot coffee…  
Them sitting at the ice rink together, chatting quietly…  
Standing outside an apartment complex, Sara wiping "chalk" off of Grissom's face…  
Sara and Grissom, standing under a bridge, homeless peoples fires burning softly around them, trying to figure out why someone would kill a model…  
Grissom, pinning Sara against the wall, looking deep into her eyes…  
Sara, just caught drunk driving, holding Grissom's hand in the waiting room of the police department…

Grissom, holding weeping Sara's hand, Sara just having told him the truth about her parents…  
Sara kneeling inside a locked office, a crazy man holding a sharpened piece of pottery to her neck, and Grissom, outside the office, terror flashing in his shocking blue eyes…  
Slowly, the picture faded, but the blue eyes remained in the blackness of her mind. Sara opened her eyes. A pair of worried blue eyes were looking at her, but they weren't Grissom's.  
"Sara, are you ok? I came here after shift to see how you were doing, and the nurse said you where screaming and you couldn't be woken up." Catherine's strawberry - blonde hair shone in the soft light of Sara's bedside lamp.

Sara gave Catherine a confused look, and then the dream came back to her. Sara blanched, although, with all the bruising, you couldn't see it.

Catherine guessed what it was about, and quickly changed the subject.  
"What happened with you and Greg in here earlier? He came out of here looking pretty happy with himself."

Sara grinned and said, "If he didn't tell you, I'm sure not going to either!" They laughed quietly, and Catherine got up.

"Well, Sara, I gotta go get some sleep, but I'll see you again sometime tomorrow, ok?"  
Sara nodded and Catherine went over to the lamp and turned it off, throwing the room into darkness.

As Sara's eyes adjusted, she saw Catherine pause at the door.  
"Sara, we're going to find the piece of scum that did this, and we're going to put him away for a long time," Catherine closed the door, and left Sara to think about what she had dreamt.


	5. Fights & Folders

The next night, Grissom had assembled his troops in the Break Room at the start of shift.  
"Ok, I know it's hard to deal with Sara being in the hospital and all, but we have to keep working. Nick, Greg, put the DNA on rush and go over Sara's recent cases, see if there are any threats, and the like. Also, start making a profile. And send a forensic artist over to the hospital. If you guys need some help, ask Catherine. Warrick, finish up your case quickly and go back to the scene, check to see if Nick missed anything with new eyes."

"I'm on it," Warrick said, getting up from his chair and striding out of the room.  
"And what are you doing, oh leader of troops?" asked Catherine seriously, although Nick grinned. Catherine was trying to lighten the mood, and it was working.  
Greg, on the other hand, was staring at the table, deep in thought.  
"I'm working on the Senran case, but if I finish early, I'll be helping the guys and you, assuming that you'll be done by then." Catherine nodded. She got up and left to go finish up her case. Nick followed her out.

Grissom was about to leave to when Greg said sulkily, "Can I talk to you in your office, Grissom?" Grissom was half-way out of the door when Greg said his first words of the night.  
"Uh, could this wait 'till later, because I have a case…" Grissom looked meaningfully at Greg, hoping he'd get the hint.

"No," Greg replied simply, standing up and stretching his lanky body. He walked over the doorway. , "Coming?" He walked out and strode purposely to Grissom's office.  
Grissom followed behind, a little confused at the young CSI's attitude. Trailing in Greg's wake, he slipped into his office and closed the door. Grissom headed to his desk and sat down.  
"Okay, what's this all about?" Grissom asked, leaning back in his chair, trying to look at ease, even though he wanted Greg out of his office, ASAP.

"Sara," Greg said forcefully, with out hesitating. "I want to talk to you about Sara. I want to know why you think you have the right to hit her and insult her after she had just been raped and beaten. And then, afterwards, act like nothing even happened. I heard what you said, years back. "there are three things that I have a problem with: Husbands who hit their wives, sexual assault on kids, and the scum that deals death to kids" Now, I know that Sara's not your wife, but hitting a woman whose physically and emotionally strained? That's low, even for you," Greg was huffing after his speech, but his eyes glinted with the pride of someone who has just stood up for what he believes in.

Grissom's care-free aura vanished in a second. He leaned forwards and said, "What do you mean, "low, even for you"?" he said, as much anger in his voice as the day when he had talked to the Jimson weed dealer.

Inside, Greg was burning with anger, "I mean, low as in how you treated Sara before the attack, low as in how you expected her to do nothing with her life, low as in picking her up one moment, then shoving her away the next!" Greg stood up, looking down at Grissom, despising him more than anything in this world.

Grissom was a little shell shocked that Greg, the person who said that Grissom made him nervous, was yelling at him.

"What kind of person does that to another person, Grissom? Sara trusted you, and you yell at her and tell her, what was it? "I'm just going to leave and go back to the office, something you should have been doing if you hadn't been dumb enough to get attacked"!

God, and then you want the whole world to forgive and forget! Well, I highly doubt Sara will! Oh, and in case you might have forgotten, Sara's mom was abused. It's great that you could show her the same love and respect that Sara's dad gave her mom!" Greg spun on his heel and stormed out of the office, not even noticing that Catherine and Nick where standing out there. They both had clearly been listening in. Nick was about to charge in, but Catherine grabbed his arm and dragged him away.

Once they where far enough away, Catherine wheeled around at him and whispered loud enough so only Nick could hear, "I know you're mad, but getting Grissom even more mad won't help in the least! Wait for him to calm down, or who knows what he might do! Right now, you need to go check on Greg and hope he's not making a grenade to throw at Grissom. Now go!" Catherine shoved him away and Nick trotted off to go find his friend. Catherine sighed and thought, what is happening to this lab?

Nick was seething, and he could do nothing about it. He couldn't believe Grissom had said those things to Sara. Nick, he thought to himself, what's done is done, and now, all you can do is find a way do figure out how to fix it. He went into the Break Room and saw Greg making a cup of his special coffee, Blue Hawaiian.

"Greg, you shouldn't yell at Grissom like that, people where wondering what was going on in there."

Greg, not turning around, mumbled, "And why should I care what you think?"

"Because I don't want Grissom firing your ass because you can't control your emotions," Nick said, leaning on the frame of the doorway.

Greg, not even trying to pretend that he was still making coffee, sighed and turned around and said, "What? Like you do?"

"No, this isn't about me, this is about you and your mistakes."

Greg opened his mouth angrily to speak, but Nick held up his hand and said calmly, "I know how you feel, like no one understands what the hell is going on, right? We do, and Grissom is just… being Grissom." Greg sighed and turned back to his coffee.

"Look, I never said that being Grissom meant everything is good. Grissom's an ass, whether he likes it or not, but one things for sure. It's not going to help if you keep yelling at him. Grissom's not a people person, and he doesn't know how to control his emotions. Everybody's tempers are flaring because of Sara, but a smart kid like you should understand that getting Grissom mad isn't going to accomplish anything but no paycheck and a sore throat. Knowing Grissom, he'll eventually cool off and feel very bad about himself." Greg turned back around, stirring his coffee. He looked up at Nick.

Nick smiled and said, "What'd ya say? Do you want to go get the bad guy?"  
Nick's infectious smile worked, and a grin broke out on Greg's face.  
"Let's get this sucker."

"Ok, so what we know for sure is: the suspect's male… That's all we know! How are we supposed to find this perp if that's all we know?" Greg and Nick were sitting in the Break Room, with a couple of folders in front of them, as well as two sodas.

Greg put his head in his hands. " Not to mention the forensic artist got nothing from Sara…"  
"Come on, Greg, we know more than that. That's all we have forensically. We know because of the severity of the beating, that it was personal, and he hated her. Or loved her." He started shuffling through the papers, looking for a blank one to write all of their ideas down.

"Yeah, yeah, you're right… Ok, er, the suspect used a condom; there was no DNA under her finger nails, nor anywhere in the crime scene. That means, unfortunately, this guy knows how to cover his tracks. He even might know some things about forensics." Greg leaned back on his chair proudly, putting his arms behind his head. There was a screech and the chair slipped backwards, leaving Greg on the floor, bright red.

Nick laughed. "Nice one, buddy, real slick… Anyways, what else do we have for a profile…Oh, right, the scene. Well, because of where it was, how Sara hadn't told anybody of where she was going, and we know it was personal, he probably followed her and waited until she was drunk enough to be an easy catch. I'll bet he is or was a local."

As Nick wrote this all down, Catherine walked in the room, carrying Chinese take-out.  
As the smell wafted towards them, the two men looked up.

Catherine stopped and looked at them. She gave an easy smile and said, to their begging little faces.  
"Oh, do you want some? Tell me what you guys have and it's yours." Catherine sat down opposite to them.

Nick, who was salivating over the smell, slid the piece of paper across the table with a smirk.  
Catherine picked up the piece of paper and quickly read it.

"Ok, so, the suspect is someone who: A. lives in Vegas B. Knows forensics to an unspecified degree C. Loves/ Hates Sara… oh, and, of course, is male. Well, it's a good start." She pushed the bags over to them, which they greedily dug into. "I think you guys missed something."  
Greg looked up. "What?" he mumbled, through a mouthful of Chicken Balls smothered in Sweet 'N Sour sauce.

"Well, because of all the stuff the perp did, I'm guessing he wasn't jut in love with her, he was obsessed with her. He was more than just following her. He might have been stalking her…"  
Nick's head shot up.

Catherine could tell he was worried. A couple years back, Nick had had a stalker, who had nearly killed him.

Nick cleared his throat. "Well, from my personal experience, Sara probably had no idea she was being stalked. She might have had some hints, but just dismissed them for being paranoid. Also, if Sara having a stalker is really the case, we should have someone watching her at all times, because now, while she is in the hospital, she's her weakest."

"But, "argued Greg, "we know that he lives in Vegas, and knows forensics and Sara. That person could easily, possibly, very likely, be in the department." They all looked silently at each other, letting Greg's words sink in.

Warrick walked in, breaking the tension when he said, "Hey, Nick, I just finished up with my case, and I was wondering if you could show me your notes about the scene?"  
Warrick's deep voice seemed to shake them out of their silence.

"Uh, sure man, hold on a sec… Here they are..." Nick said, pulling out a couple of papers and handing them to Warrick, who thanked him and sat down at the far end of the table to read them.  
"Nick, I'm going to go over Sara's recent cases, Okay? You or Catherine can catch Warrick up on our progress," Greg got up quickly and exited the room.

Nick and Catherine looked at each other, and with their eyes, agreed that Nick would catch Warrick up. Catherine got up and left the room, deep in thought.

Where they overreacting? Why would some do that to Sara, especially in the department, people who saw this kind of horror in their daily lives?

Well, one thing was for sure, someone had to be watching Sara at all times, and that's where Catherine was headed, the hospital. She had to think of a good cover story, about why she was there, because she didn't want to scare Sara, anymore than she already was. Catherine knew that Sara would see right through an average alibi, so Catherine really had to think hard about this one. Catherine got into her car, pulled out onto the street and headed towards the hospital. A quarter of the way there, there was a huge car pile up, and there was no way by.

Catherine sighed, and put her car in park, thinking, this is going to be a long shift…

Greg leaned back, stretching his arms above his head. It had been a very long shift for him, and he didn't feel like he accomplished anything. In front of him, stacks and stacks of yellow folders were spread out on the glass table in the Break Room, and Greg had gone through every single one of them.

The reason he didn't feel like he accomplished anything was because, in all the folders, there was nothing to suggest that any of Sara's recent cases hadn't gone as smooth as something could in this job. The most suspicious thing that had happened was a guy that was going away for life say that when he was going to kill them all. And Sara would have just been shaking in her boots.  
Greg smiled to himself. Sara was never scared of anybody, and only got emotional when… His face clouded.

"When violence against women was involved…" he said quietly to himself.  
The words had barely escaped his mouth when Warrick and Nick walked in, both mirroring Greg's somber expression.

"So, Greg, did'ja find anything?" Warrick asked, collapsing into a chair opposite.  
"No, nothing. I went through all these folders, and nothing was suspicious, at all!" Greg exclaimed as Nick sat down in the chair next to Warrick.  
Warrick whistled

.  
"Ok, I think it's safe to say it wasn't any of her cases." Nick said, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. "Now what?"


	6. Suspicions

Catherine turned off her car with a sigh. She had been at that intersection for 45 minutes, minimum, and all she wanted to do was get inside, and make sure Sara was okay. She jumped out of the car, and rushed into the hospital. As she navigated her way to Sara's room, she kept on thinking, she's going to be alright, she's going to be alright…

When she reached her room, the door was slightly ajar.

Catherine's heart stopped. Racing to the door, she banged it open, gun materializing in her hand.  
Sara, and the nurse, who was re-applying the bandage on her head, jumped.

After realizing that Sara was safe, Catherine sighed, re-holstering her gun. Her heart slowed down.  
"Sorry, Sara, ma'm, I didn't mean to scare you guys… Could you give us a minute?" Catherine asked the nurse, whose eyes were still as wide as saucers. Catherine felt a little guilty about scaring her, but, she consoled herself, if it had been the attacker, it would have worked out perfectly.

"No problem, I just finished," the nurse, Mrs. Michael, by the flash of her gold-coloured name tag in the light, squeaked, and hastily fled the room.

Catherine couldn't blame her. Shutting the door behind her, Catherine turned around, to face Sara, who had an amused look on her face.

Catherine gave an inwardly sigh. She thought that Sara would be angry at her for scaring her and her nurse.

"So, Catherine, what's up with full-attack mode entrance? Is the lab that boring? Or did Greg dare you?" Sara asked, her voice playful, but her eyes saying that she really wanted to know.  
Catherine was thinking furiously, trying to think if she should tell Sara the truth, or think up a lie.  
Sara could see the debate on her face, as much as Cath was trying to hide it. She rolled her eyes and leaned back.

"I'll just wait for you to think of a lie. Wake me up when you think of one," Sara said frankly, closing her eyes.

That decided it for Catherine. She took a deep breath and said:  
"We, Nick, Greg, Warrick and I, that the attacker," Sara's face creased, "is also a stalker," her eyes flew open, "and, he's someone who knows you." Sara's face drained of blood, and, this time, Catherine could see it.

"Is that why you're here?" Sara asked in a small voice, one that frightened Catherine. It sounded like all the fight was out of her voice, and Catherine could practically see Sara collapsing, her spirit broken.

"Yes, the guys and I are going to be taking turns watching over you."

Sara sat up at the word "guys", a look of nervousness on her face, replacing the fear. "Does that mean Grissom, too?"

Catherine shook her head, and said, without thinking, "No, Grissom is working his own case." She instantly regretted it. That was defiantly not what Sara needed to hear, that Grissom, of all people, wasn't working her case.

The look of nervousness on her face was gone, a look of mixed hurt and anger in its place.  
As if on cue, the door swung open, and Grissom walked in.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Catherine. He looked very surprised to see Catherine, almost as surprised as Catherine was to see him.

Unfortunately, Sara was the first to shake off her daze.

"What are you doing here, Grissom? I'm not important enough for you to work my case, but you have enough time to come down here?" Sara asked, her voice flat, her face stony.

Grissom, surprise wearing off, opened his mouth to respond, an angry retort on the tip of his tongue, when Catherine grabbed his arm, and hauled him out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Grissom tried to fight back for the first few seconds, but then gave up. Catherine was unusually strong for someone her size.

"Grissom!" Catherine whispered heatedly, "what the hell are you doing here?! Sara isn't even your case!"

"As I was just informed," Grissom said sardonically, motioning his head to Sara's door.  
"Oh, Grissom, don't use that with me, I'm not in the mood. Why are you even here?" Catherine asked, letting go of Grissom's arm, and standing straight with her arms crossed, with one eyebrow raised.

Geez, did that stance ever irritate him! He felt like a teenager again, getting caught coming home way after curfew.

"What? Now I have to tell you what I'm doing?" Grissom asked indignantly, trying to get out of it.  
Catherine didn't bat an eyelash.

"Am I not aloud to visit my CSI? Besides, I'm your boss. I make the rules." Grissom turned around trying to make a retreat.

"Did I hear you correctly? You make the rules? Oh, don't give me that B.S. I'm as much a boss as you are. I could easily do your job. Probably better than you are, right now."  
Grissom paused, thinking of an answer, decided better of it, and continued his way to the exit.  
Catherine sighed, and sat on the bench opposite to Sara's room, head in hands, waiting for morning to come.

Warrick walked down the hall towards Grissom's office, dragging his feet. It had been a double shift, and Warrick as almost asleep on his feet. All he had to do was report to Grissom about their progress on Sara's case.

He knocked on the door. It creaked open. Sticking his head in, he found it deserted, although Grissom's desk lamp was still on. It cast a ghostly yellow-white light on the folder on Grissom desk. The room felt empty, without Grissom sitting at the desk, lost in thought.

Warrick briefly wondered where Grissom was, and then realizing that he was being melodramatic, that Grissom was probably getting another cup of coffee.

As Warrick looked over at Grissom's desk, he thought that it was unusually messy, even for Grissom.

Several empty cups of coffee were on his desk, along with some half-eaten Chinese take-out. A number of folders were spread out on the desk, one of them half-covering a cross-word. On top of everything were Grissom's glasses.

Not wanting to disturb Grissom office, Warrick ambled towards Grissom's desk, to put down their findings. Warrick was committed to his work, but there was no way that he was waiting foe Grissom to return.

Warrick would later wonder that if he had put on the big light, if he would have found it.  
Warrick was making his way to the desk, and tripped on the edge of one of the many shelves covered with jars and weird experiments.

He fell forwards, straight into Grissom's desk. When Warrick's lanky 6 foot 2 form crashed into it, there were unfortunate consequences. Nearly everything on the desk had fallen off the desk, but, luckily, the desk was alright.

Warrick groaned, grumbling about how the shelves were way too close together.  
He hauled himself up from the ground, and went around the other side of the desk, expecting the worst. It was better than he expected, but not good either. He sighed, and said good-bye to catching the end of his favourite basketball team's game.

He knelt down, and started cleaning up.  
Warrick was almost done, all he had to do was clean up the soya sauce spillage from the Chinese food. It had seeped into a drawer that Grissom had left partly open.  
Opening it up completely, he found that there was only one folder in it.  
Cleaning up the inside of the drawer, he grabbed the folder, and began to clean it off, too, when all of the papers fell out.

Warrick moaned. Was today just not his day, or was the sleepiness finally getting to him?  
He began to pick up the stuff when he stopped cold. There, on top of papers, was a picture of a familiar gap-toothed face.

Warrick, apprehensive already, stood up, papers in hand. It was Sara's personal file.  
Normally, Warrick would have just would have thought it was weird, but, under the circumstances, it was alarming.

Warrick's mind was putting all the pieces together.  
Everybody in the lab knew about the thing going on between Sara and Grissom, even if they themselves didn't even know. Lately, Grissom had been giving Sara the cold shoulder. He had been playing her hot and cold, and not even realizing it he had been hurting her. He fit the profile.  
He was male. He lived in Las Vegas. He knew forensics. He knew Sara, let alone worked with her.  
As Warrick's mind was processing all of this, he didn't hear the creak of the door.

Someone tapped Warrick's shoulder. He swung around with a yell, striking the assailant, with a sharp blow from his elbow, in the face. The assailant groaned, and fell to the ground. Warrick rapidly drew his gun and pointed it a pair of sharp blue eyes.

It took Warrick a few moments to realize that he was pointing the dark barrel of his gun at his boss.  
"Grissom! You startled me!" Warrick exclaimed, instantly forgetting about the evidence he had just found. He hastily put his gun away, and helped Grissom up from the floor.

"I'm sorry, Warrick. Next time, I'll knock on the door," Grissom said wryly, rubbing the spot where Warrick had elbowed him, which was already bruising. He made his way to his chair, and sat down. Picking up his glasses, he put them on, and looked up at Warrick.

"Now, what can I do for you?" Grissom asked.  
Warrick hesitated for an instant, trying to remember why he was there.  
Then he remembered. All of it. Warrick was suddenly wary. It was just superficial evidence, Warrick thought to himself, trying not to let his thoughts appear on his face.

"Uh, I was just here to tell you that I was clocking out, at that, first thing tomorrow, Greg and I are checking out the crime scene." Technically, he wasn't lying. Greg and he were going to the crime scene tomorrow, and Warrick could have been there to tell Grissom that. Still, he hated lying to Grissom, even if he was a potential suspect.

"Good. Greg needs the field experience. Take Brass, too, if you can get him." Grissom said, his innocent sapphire eyes looking up at him.

Warrick got the hint, and took his leave. He was going to leave, as soon as he found Catherine. Making his way to the Break Room, he stopped, suddenly remembering that Catherine was at the hospital with Sara. He mentally hit himself over the head. The sleepiness was definitely getting to him. He turned around.

Catherine was striding down the hall, a smug look on her face. He blinked rapidly, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He jumped up a yell, whirling around.  
Nick was standing there, with a grin on his face, and an eyebrow raised.

"A little tense, there, buddy?" Nick laughed. Warrick honestly could have clocked him right then. He was about to, when Nick looked over his shoulder, and said loudly, "What are you so smug about?"

Warrick remembered Catherine and turned around.  
"Greg came early, to take over shift."

There was a look of confusion on Nick's face. Warrick grinned inwardly. It seemed he wasn't the only one that was tired.

"A little slow there, buddy?" Warrick mimicked.  
Revelation dawned on his face, and his forehead creased.  
"Yeah, how was that?" Nick asked, deciding to ignore Warrick's remark.  
"It was fine, save for, when I got there, I gave Sara and the nurse a little bit of a scare, and Grissom showing up."

The blood drained from Warrick's face. Grissom went to the hospital. He hadn't known that Catherine was there, and it wasn't his case. And he went to the hospital.  
Once he had gotten his thoughts under control, Catherine was already walking away.  
Quickly making his decision, he ran to catch up with her.


	7. Ruined Romances

"Catherine! Hey, Catherine, wait up!" Warrick raced after her, narrowly avoiding Bobby Dawson, who was coming out of the Ballistics' lab.

Catherine turned around a mildly surprised look on her face.  
"Yeah, Warrick?" Catherine asked, trying to keep the weariness out of her voice.  
"Can I talk to you for a second?" Warrick asked, impatience creeping into his voice.  
Catherine opened her mouth to turn him down, but Warrick quickly interjected:  
"It's important."

Catherine heaved a sigh, and said, "Okay, but make it quick. I'm exhausted."  
Warrick quickly looked around for a secluded area.  
Even if it was graveyard, the crime lab was still bustling.  
Looking to his left, he saw a janitor's closet.

Grabbing Catherine's arm, he pulled her over to the door, and wrenched it open. He hastily glanced around to see if anyone was watching, and stepped into the closet, pulling Catherine after him. He quickly shut the door after them.

Turning around, he grimaced. The closet hadn't seemed too small from the outside.  
Hunching over slightly, he looked over at Catherine, and, once again, regretted that he chose this spot. Catherine has a shocked, slightly confused look on her face.

Suddenly, Warrick realized what this must have looked like, and felt a weird sensation come over him. Shaking him head to clear it, he got down to business.

"Ok, Catherine, I've got some really bad news. Now, believe me, you are going to be really surprised, and probably angry, too, but this is just what I found-"  
Catherine cut him off.

"Warrick, what is it?" Catherine asked. Warrick could tell she was a little bit pissed, but she was trying hard not to show it, so he decided to ignore it.

"Okay, here it is… I think that Grissom is the perp." There. He had said it… and now he wished he could tale it back. The words were hanging in the air, and Catherine's reaction was exactly as he had predicted. The look of surprise morphed into anger in the blink of an eye.

"WHAT!? HOW COULD GRISSOM BE THE PERP, WARRICK!? GRISSOM IS… GRISSOM!" Catherine's face has turned a light shade of red, and was getting steadily redder.

"Whoa! Catherine! Calm down! At least let me tell you the evidence! Do you honestly think that I would make accusations to one of my friends, and my boss without any evidence?! C'mon, Catherine, you know me better than that!" Warrick said, his voice border lining on yelling.  
Catherine's eyes were frantic, like a trapped animal. She looked up into Warrick's eyes.

"I don't know what to think anymore! Everything is getting out of control!" Her eyes filled up with tears. Out of no where, Catherine fell onto Warrick, wrapping her arms around his stomach, crying into his chest. Warrick tensed up for a second, and then enveloped her in his arms, quietly consoling her. After a few minutes, Catherine's crying subsided. She looked up him, eyes red. Behind the tears, there was an odd light in her eyes. Unexpectedly, Catherine reached her neck up, and passionately kissed Warrick.

Warrick, stunned, didn't move for a second. Then, throwing all caution to the wind, started kissing her as well.

Suddenly, the closet door burst open, and Warrick and Catherine broke apart, with the deer-in-headlights look plastered on their faces, which were stark against the harsh florescent light.  
"What's going on in here?!" said an annoying, familiar voice.  
Warrick squinted his eyes to make them adjust quicker, seriously hoping that his ears were deceiving him.  
His eyes finally cleared, and he suppressed a groan.

Hodges, with a smirk that looked almost painful, stood in the doorway, a look of mock surprise on his face.

"Hodges! What are you doing?!" Warrick said, letting go of Catherine and stepping out the closet, so that he could have a more threatening posture.

Hodges didn't seem to care, or notice, that Warrick was looming over him.  
Tilting his head slightly, so he could look Warrick in the face, Hodges grinned deviously.  
"Hm… I bet Conrad would be very interested in what goes on in his lab… Better yet, I'm sure the sheriff would be, too." Hodges was practically giddy.

"Hodges, don't even go there," said Catherine hotly, stepping out from behind Warrick, shooting him a glare. It was impossible to tell that she had been crying moments before.  
Hodges was shaking his head, a glint of malice in his eyes.

"Don't give me lip, Catherine. I am sure that Warrick here would not want his lovely wife to find out about this," he motioned to Warrick and Catherine.  
Warrick struggled to keep the anguish off of his face, and, in turn, Catherine trying to keep the misery off hers, after seeing Warrick's face.

Hodges didn't seem to notice these looks, as he was too busy being so proud of himself for seeing Warrick and Catherine slip into the janitor's closet.  
Warrick sighed, his body visibly deflating. "Ok, what do you want, Hodges?"

Hodges grinned toothily. "My, my, I mean, this is so generous!" said Hodges gaudily, milking it for all it was worth. "Hmm, so what do I want? Well, first of all, I want you guys to stop disrespecting me, because I crack most of these cases."

Catherine ground her teeth, clenching and unclenching her fists.  
"Secondly, both of you have to write to Conrad Ecklie about how well I do my job, and how I deserve a pay raise." Hodges was really enjoying himself.

"Hmm… I think that's all for now... but I'll get back to you if I want anything else…" Hodges smirked, and turned to leave when Warrick grabbed his shoulder and whispered, "If you even think about telling anyone, you might want to remember this: You will have two very pissed off criminologists on your back, both of whom know how to cover up a murder."

Warrick felt Hodges' back stiffen. Gingerly, Hodges shook Warrick's hand off of his shoulder, and continued walking, not giving either Catherine or Warrick a second glance.  
Warrick and Catherine watched Hodges until he was out of view.  
All of a sudden, Catherine felt uncomfortable.

"I, uh, have to go, um, check on something," Catherine turned, and started to walk away, expecting Warrick's hand on her shoulder, or for him to call out to her.  
Neither one happened.  
Catherine could feel Warrick's eyes on her back, but she refused to turn around, and she the pity in them.

As Catherine continued down the hall, her vision blurred, and she knew what was coming. Quickly, not wanting Warrick to see her tears, she walked over to the nearest door, the fingerprint lab, and slid into the room, quietly shutting the door.  
Sliding to the floor, she put her face in her hands, tears flooding from her eyes.  
How had things come to this?

"Okay, so where do you want to go?" Greg asked Sara, who was seated in the passenger seat of the Tahoe that Greg had driven to the hospital.  
"Well, it depends… Are you paying?" Sara asked, a smile playing at her lips.  
Greg grinned.

"Well, seeing as how this IS our first date, and I AM the guy… Haha, okay…Although, I am making less money than you…" As Greg rambled on, Sara looked out the window, and sighed, basking in the soothing sound of Greg's voice.

Greg had come to the hospital in a tux, and a bouquet of flowers. Sara had been genuinely surprised at how grown-up and handsome Greg looked, and told him as much. Greg, of course, laughed, and said that she deserved a guy that was grown-up and handsome, and that is what she had got. Or, he added, one that attempted to look that way.

Sara had insisted that she went to her apartment and found something nice to wear. Although Greg told her that she looked good in a paper dress, she still went home to change. Sara did say it, but she also had to get some coverup for her bruises that still mottled her skin like a bad rash. Sara grinned when she remembered the look on Greg's face when she came out of her apartment in her favourite pale-yellow strappy dress.

Realizing that Greg was asking a question, she quickly snapped into attention to catch the last few words "…to eat, seriously?"  
"Hey, if you are payin', then you can choose," Sara said, "but let's not go somewhere too fancy…I still kind of smell like a hospital."

Greg sniffed the air. "Too true."  
Sara laughed, and playfully hit him on the shoulder, "That's mean! Do you really want me to start on what you smell like?"

Greg pretended to pout, and mumbled, "No…"  
Sara tried not to smile, but couldn't.  
"Aw, Greg, you melt my heart. How could I be so mean to you?"  
"I honestly don't know."

Greg pointed out the window at a small café with soft yellow walls, and green trim.  
"Does that suit your taste?" Greg asked, a little bit nervous that Sara would laugh at his choice of restaurant.

Greg gave a sigh of relief when he saw a smile grow on Sara's lips.  
Man, I really better not screw this up! Greg thought as he pulled into handicapped parking spot right in front of the café.

"Well, at least that's one good thing that's come of this," joked Sara half-heartedly as she tried to break the uncomfortable silence.  
"Uh, right, um, do you want me to help you out?" Greg asked, trying to keep the anxiousness out of his voice and his face.

"Uh, sure, Greg," Sara said, and gave him a cheery smile.  
That smile gave Greg courage. He walked around the car, opened the door, and bowed, with a flourish.

"My lady, may I be so providential," Greg said with a coarse British accent as Sara grinned and raised an eyebrow, "as to eat dinner with a maiden as beautiful as you?"

As people looked on with bemused expressions, Sara blushed, and, just as Greg thought that he had deeply embarrassed her, she lightly placed her hand on Greg's extended arm.  
"Certainly, kind sir," Sara said, struggling to keep a straight face and a British accent.

As Sara tried to stand up, she slipped on the hem of her dress. Sara toppled over, and, as she closed her eyes and prepared herself for the impact, powerful arms caught her.  
Opening her eyes, she looked up into laughing brown eyes.

Greg swung her over to his other side, and up. To Sara's complete shock, he gave her a kiss.  
The people around them broke into applause and cheering. Greg pulled back, and looked around with a bewildered look on his face. Slowly, a grin crept onto his lips, and he looked down at Sara, who was giggling.

Letting her stand up on her own feet, Greg rushed to the door to hold it open for her. Sara held her composure for a moment, and then burst out laughing. Scurrying to the door, she gave Greg a wobbly curtsy, and then sauntered into the café.  
Greg watched her go in, thinking, "I have got to be the luckiest man alive."

Grissom fumed from inside his car. He watched as Greg followed Sara into the café.  
Grissom had come to the bank after shift, and he sees Greg making out with Sara in the middle of the sidewalk as he is getting back into his car.

Grissom's hands involuntarily clenched and unclenched the steering wheel.  
"I need a plan," Grissom said quietly to himself as he watched Greg and Sara in the window seat of the café, chatting cheerfully. Suddenly, Greg reached out, and grasped Sara's hand.  
"I need a plan," Grissom repeated, and started up his car.

"Sir, would you like that in a to-go container?" asked the waiter, who had sidled up on them unnoticed.

Greg jumped slightly, and Sara giggled. Greg felt a blush creeping up his neck, but then quickly realized that Sara was probably a little bit drunk. He glanced at the wine bottles scattered on the table.

"Okay, a LOT drunk" Greg thought, feeling a little bit guilty that he had let her drink that much.  
"Sir?" repeated the waiter, with an annoyingly nasal twang that was supposed to get Greg to hurry up.

"Um, no, it's okay. Just the cheque, please. Thanks," Greg said as the waiter walked away. Greg turned back to Sara, and grinned. Sara's grin back was a little too giddy.  
"Okay, so where do you want to go after this? A bar? A casino? Both?" Sara asked, her words slurred.

Greg was feeling more than a little bit guilty. He knew that she should go straight home. He heaved a sigh. He finally had Sara with him, and probably could easily take advantage of her.  
"I guess I'm just too much of a man," he thought to himself dramatically.

The waiter came with the cheque, and Greg hurriedly paid cash.  
Immediately getting up to help Sara, as she was a bit wobbly on her feet, they staggered over to the front door, and out onto the bustling sidewalk. Navigating his way around people gaping at the sights, he got to the Tahoe, and beeped it unlocked. He hastily thrust Sara into the vehicle, and dashed to the other side, narrowly avoiding getting smashed by a car.

Furious honking accompanied him into the car. The sound was muffled when he slammed the door shut.  
Looking over at Sara, he saw her staring at him, her eyelids part-ways closed.  
"Why are you going so fast?" Sara asked, her words so mumbled that they were barely intelligible.  
Greg looked quizzically at her, and then remembered that this was not normal Sara. This was hammered Sara. Big-time hammered.

"Okay, Sara, we are going to go back to the hospital, okay?" Greg asked slowly, so that she could understand.

Sara nodded, but replied, "No. I have'ta go home and put dress back," Sara mumbled something else incoherently.

"It's okay. I will bring it back tomorrow. But we have to get you back to the hospital," Said Greg, conveniently forgetting to remind Sara that she had been granted a two-day leave from the hospital.  
"Hospital-Smochpital. I wanna go home. Pretty please?" Sara asked, fluttering her eyelashes, and pouting.

Greg sighed. It was impossible for him to deny Sara anything. He couldn't do it when she asked for something on rush, even if something else was his priority, and he couldn't do it now, even a smashed Sara.

"Okay, but we are only going there for a half-hour, for you to check your mail, change, and the like." Putting the Tahoe into drive, he pulled out of the parking space.

15 minutes later, they had arrived at Sara's apartment, and, while Sara was taking a quick shower, Greg sat at the kitchen table, head in hands, wondering where it had all gone wrong. It had just been going too perfect. He moaned, and got up, too angry with himself to sit. As he paced the cozy living room, he heard the creak of the bathroom door. Greg quickly walked back to the kitchen table to grab a mug of coffee he had brewed for Sara. Walking a few steps to the beginning of the short hallway, he saw Sara stumble out, a towel around her head, and her body.

"He's some coffee. It'll help."  
Sara reached out for the cup, and her towel slipped off. Greg felt the heat rise to his face, and, when Sara had the mug, turned away. A few seconds later, he heard Sara exclaim, "Oh, shoot, my towel fell off!" And a second after that, he heard the door of Sara's bedroom open, then close.  
He exhaled a gust of air, and realized that he had been holding his breath.

About 10 minutes later, Sara emerged from her bedroom, dressed in a pair of jeans, and an inside out shirt. Greg decided not to mention this, and instead said, "Are you ready to go?"  
Sara huffed. "Why do you want to leave so badly?" she complained. "Do you not like me very much? Because I think I can change that," Sara said, slowly sauntering over to Greg. He supposed that she was trying to look hot, but it just made her look foolish.  
"No, Sara. It's because we have to get back to the hospital."

"Oh, come on, Grissom."  
Greg took a step back, feeling like he had been smacked across the head. His head spun.  
"She didn't want me. She wanted Grissom, all along. Even though he hit her, she still wants him. I can't believe that I was so stupid! She never liked me." Greg took another step back. Then another. He turned around swiftly, and nearly collided with the door.

Wrenching the door open, he fled the apartment. Racing down the stairs, the more reasonable part of his brain tried to reason with him, saying that it was a slip of her tongue, and that she was drunk. He shook his head, banishing the thoughts, not wanting to have to confront them, and make him more confused.

He rammed into the door leading outside, and was greeted by a wave of fresh air. Slowing down, he made his way to the Tahoe, and unlocked the driver's side door.

Sliding into the seat, he slammed the door close. Staring across the parking lot, not seeing anything, he let his emotions go. Tears streamed down his face, and a deep sense of emptiness filled the place where his heart was supposed to be. His body was racked with sobs. He had always had a crush on Sara, and it had just grown to something more over the years. And, even though Grissom and Sara had always seemed to flirt, Greg had managed to hold onto his hope that he could one day get to be with the love of his life. And 6 years of hope had been shattered by a single word.


	8. Questions & Answers

A/N: Sorry for the confusion, but i got a review that said they were looking forward to find out why Greg left Sara, alon and drunk, in her apartment... It's because he was in total shock from her saying Grissom, emotions and such... it's completely my fault for not being more clear! Thanks for the reviews, and please, keep them up! (PS. Sorry, I ramble a lot...)

"Greg?!" Sara suddenly awoke, her eyes searching the room, quickly realizing that she was not at the hospital, but in her apartment. Out of no where, a ferocious headache assaulted her brain. She scrunched her eyes closed, remembering the previous night, praying that it had all been a dream. The last hazy memory of prior night was feeling a sense of loneliness, and then crawling into her bed.  
"Greg?" Sara repeated, louder, but with more purpose this time. She pulled the covers off of herself, and, unsteadily, put her feet on the ground, and wobbled to the bedroom doorway. Clinging to door frame, she peered around. It was obvious that Greg was not here.

As soon as that thought hit her, she promptly collapsed on the floor, and started crying.  
"Sara, wallowing in self-pity is going to do nothing," the cold part of herself thought, but she didn't care. It felt good just to let it all go. After sitting there for a few minutes, she finally pulled herself together enough to shakily stand up, go to the kitchen, and make a pot of coffee.

She had just turned it on when a knock came at the door. Sara was startled. She didn't think that anyone, other than Greg, knew she was home, and, after what she had said, she didn't expect him back any time soon.

Cautiously walking over to the door, she looked out the peep hole, and gave a sigh of relief.  
Unlocking and opening the door, she asked, "How did you know I was home?"  
Nick, who's normally sunny disposition was absent, hurriedly came in.

"Come in, why don't you," Sara said loudly to the empty doorway. Closing the door, she rounded on Nick. "What do you want?"

"Greg. I want to know where Greg is. He didn't show up at work today, and no one knows where he is. He had a court date, and he missed it. Catherine says that you went out to dinner with him before shift." There was no mockery in his worried voice. "You were the last one to see him. Did he tell you where he was going after he left?"

Sara's eyes filled with tears, and she collapsed onto Nick.  
As unexpected as this was, Nick managed to hold onto her, whispering soothing words into her ear, and rubbing her arm, all the while wondering what had happened between his two best friends that had made Sara bust into tears, and Greg disappear.

Nick carried Sara, who had lost all the will to stand on her own two feet, over to the couch. He gently placed her down. Sara instantly covered her head in her arms and curled her legs up to her chest, her body shaking with sobs. Nick's eyes filled with pity, and quickly turned away in the off chance that Sara would look up. He had known Sara long enough that, even in this disheveled state, it would make her hide her emotions beneath anger.

Noticing that the coffee was ready, Nick walked over to the counter, and poured him and Sara both a mug of coffee.

Carefully carrying them over to the coffee table beside the couch, he put Sara's down, and hold his own mug, letting it warm his unusually chilly hands. He sat down on the edge of the coffee table, to wait however long, to get the answers to these

It took Sara roughly a half-hour to come out of her state of despair. When she finally looked over at Nick, wiping her swollen eyes on her shoulder, he held out a reheated-several-times cup of coffee, and offered an encouraging smile. Sara tried to smile, but all Nick got was a grimace, but he accepted it without any comments.

Sara accepted the mug, and gratefully sipped the warm liquid, even if it did taste a little stale.  
Sara slurped the last third of it, and wiped her lips on the back of her hand, not caring that it was not proper etiquette.

When she finally set her mug down on the table, Nick slid off the table to crouch down beside Sara's face.  
"What happened last night?"

From outside the room, it would look as if the office were empty, for the lights were off, and there was no visible movement. You would have to look very closely to notice the faint outline of someone slumped at the desk, and, lucky for Grissom, who was sitting there, no one did.  
Grissom had crept into the building, making sure that no one saw him, and had slipped silently into his office.

In his office, with jars of pickled piglets, and exotic bugs, Grissom had often found refuge in the past.  
Tonight, he was there to think on what he had to do about Sara and Greg.  
"Grissom, why do you even think you can get Sara now? Time's up, and all you accomplished is pushing Sara father away!"

Grissom ripped his glasses off of his face, and rubbed his tired eyes. He felt very old, and had an intense headache that wouldn't let up.  
"Well, I can't do nothing! I can't just sit here, while Sara goes gallivanting off with any random guy… She'll get attacked again. I need her here, close to me; where I can hold her, protect her, love her…"

When that thought entered his mind, he nearly jumped. This was a startling new revelation. But he knew that it was true.  
"Why does it matter?" Said the cold and calculating part of him. "You can't make her love you."  
"But I can try."

The silence was brutally painful.  
Sara squeezed her eyes closed, after just having finished telling Nick what happened the night before, as closely as she could remember. She didn't think that she could take the pity that she knew would fill up in Nick's eyes.

Sara thought that she was going to explode from the pressure in her chest, urging her to say something, anything, to break the suffocating silence.  
Finally, thinking that she would burst is she didn't do something, Sara cracked one of her eyes open.  
Nick sat in front of her, his body limp. Luckily, he was staring at the floor, intensely as if something that would solve all of this was written there.

After what seemed like forever, Nick's head came up, a look of purpose on his face. His eyes held pity, too, but Sara was just grateful that he seemed to know what to do, because Sara felt completely lost.

Nick reached out, and put a warm hand on her shoulder. Sara looked at him, hoping that her eyes wouldn't reveal just how lost she was.  
If Nick had noticed it, he didn't mention it. He stood, and reached his other hand out towards her. Sara looked warily at it.

"Com' on, Sara, let's get you back to the hospital," Nick said, he voice rasping slightly, from emotion or not having used it in a long while, Sara couldn't tell.  
Sara took his hand, and got to her feet, her legs creaking from being stuck under her for nearly the whole time Nick had been there.

Sara just grabbed her coat, and didn't even care when Nick pointed out that her shirt was on inside out.

As Nick pushed opened the hospital room door for Sara, he heard a yelp from inside the room, and a scampering of feet. The door was wrenched out of his hand, and Catherine's glowering face appeared. She did not look please.

"Where-have-you-been?!" She demanded through her teeth, a space between each word for emphasis. "I have been waiting here forever, and then some."  
Glaring at Sara, Catherine seemed to notice that she was in to shape to get yelled at. She stepped out of the way to let her through.

Nick tried to slip through after her, but Catherine was quicker than that. She barred his path, her eyes like lasers.  
If looks could kill, Nick was sure that he would be dead and rotting.  
"Okay, now, will you please tell me what the hell in going on?" Catherine said, her voice painfully controlled.

"What's going on is that Greg is missing and Sara is a mess and Grissom is insane and I have no idea what the hell to do about it!" Nick gasped at the end of his sentence, his conscious cursing him for letting his emotions get away from him.

Catherine ignored the tone of Nick's voice, and seemed to be more interested in what it was saying.  
"Okay, what? Start from the beginning…Actually, tell me in the car."  
Nick was about to ask what she meant, but she had spun around and was now walking quickly over to the bed, where Sara was clearly trying to get some sleep.

"Sara, me n' Nick are going to go, but we'll be back in a few hours."  
Sara grunted, and, as she didn't make any other sounds, Catherine assumed that she was alright with that.

Turning back to Nick, and walking over to him on silent feet, Catherine pushed him out of the room, and shut the door behind her.  
"Where are we going?" Nick whispered to into Catherine ear as they left the patient's wing of the hospital.  
"We are going to deal with one problem at a time. We're going to go find Greg."

The car screeched to a stop, and it was extremely lucky that there were no other cars on the street. Catherine was staring at Nick, her eyes wide, and her mouth hanging open.  
"What?! Oh my God! I can't believe it! I knew something was going to go bad… Where is good karma when you need it?"  
Nick tried to smile, but couldn't, not when he knew Greg could be doing something stupid and dangerous.

"Do you think we should phone Grissom? I mean, he should know, right?" Nick asked, worry plain on his face.  
Catherine became rigid. She had completely forgotten about what Warrick had said, after everything that had happened after.

Nick, for once, noticed it. A concerned look came over his face, and he was trying to decide if he should bring it up or not when Catherine made his decision for him.  
"Warrick pulled me into a closet and told me that he found evidence against Grissom in Sara's case, and I sort of broke down and-" Catherine faltered, but she managed to sputter out the last few words: "And I made a stupid decision."

Nick opened his mouth to say something, on impulse, but Catherine again anticipated his question, and quickly blurted out, "The bottom line is that we can't phone Grissom. We don't know if the evidence is true, but we don't have anything to exonerate him, either."  
She said that with so decisiveness that Nick didn't even think to question her authority.  
"Okay, so where do we look first?" Nick asked, not wanting the silence to become awkward.  
"Well, let's check out his apartment; see if crashed there last night. If not, there is a bar just down the street where we can check next."

"What happens if he's not at either place?"  
"Well, Nick," Catherine said, sharply turning a corner, "We pray to God that he's not doing something stupid, because, at this point, there is nothing we could even do about it."

TBC...


	9. Lost & Found

A/N: Okay, well, first off, this chapter has some...rather unexpected spoilers for episode Bang Bang, in season 6 (it's the second to last episode). Secondly, this chapter has some rather unexpected cheesey-ness (lol, cheese-factor) but bear with me, people! ( I enjoy the cheesey-ness, thank you very much!)

"Crap, crap, crap, crap, CRAP!" Catherine yelled from inside Greg's bedroom. "Where the hell is he?!"

Nick cringed as he heard the door slam shut. Quickly straightening up from the leaning position on the counter, Catherine stomped out of the room, her eyes on fire.  
Nick raced over to the door, and held it open for her.

"We still have the bar…and it was our best bet in the first place," Nick soothed, ushering a sulky Catherine out the door.

As they left the building, Nick headed towards the vehicle, but Catherine stopped, and shook her head.  
"I'm going to walk over… To clear my head," Catherine added after Nick's face visibly changed to a look of uncertainty.

"Okay… Well, I'll see you there," Nick said has he continued towards the Tahoe.  
"Don't wait up," Catherine called, and Nick raised his hand to show he had heard.  
Catherine looked on as Nick started the Tahoe up, and pulled out of the lot.  
Sighing heavily, Catherine started her trek to the bar.

About half-way there, Catherine heard a muffled moan from down an alley to her left.  
Thinking that it could be a mugging or beating, after all, this was Vegas, Catherine crept to the opening of the alleyway, pressing up against the brick wall.

Peering in, she saw a heap of a person in the middle of the alleyway.  
Concerned, Catherine quietly slipped into the alley. When she reached the heap, she got a bad feeling. Not only were the clothes too nice for a street bum, but they seemed familiar, somehow.  
Crouching down, Catherine gently pushed the person over, and gasped.

"Greg!" Catherine yelped, completely shocked.  
Greg's eyes flickered open, but then he quickly squinted his eyes, even though the light in the alley wasn't that bright.  
"Catherine? What are you doing here?" Greg rasped weakly. He whimpered slightly, and let his eyes go slack.

Catherine's throat tightened. It was the most pathetic voice she had heard.  
Greg's voice shook her out of her shock. Catherine ripped out her cell phone, and rapidly dialed Nick's number.

The first ring was not even finished when Nick picked up, like he was waiting for it.  
Maybe he was.  
"Catherine," Nick said before Catherine could even get a word in. "We have a problem. Greg's not here."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't expect him to be. I just found him down an alleyway."  
Catherine quickly gave him the directions, and hung up.  
Not even a moment later, she was dialing Warrick's cell, hastily giving him the direction, not wanting to have to chat, then Brass's. She hesitated at Grissom's number.  
"Catherine, you can't leave him out of this one," she thought, biting her lower lip.  
She dialed his number.

After the fourth ring, Catherine hung up, and tried his office. She got the answering machine. Thinking it wouldn't hurt, she hurriedly left a message.  
Catherine was about to put away her phone when it dawned on her to call the paramedics. Mentally cursing herself, she flipped her cell open, and dialed 911.  
"911, what's your emergency?" said a cool female voice on the other end.  
"This is Catherine Willows, from the Las Vegas Crime Lab. I just found one of our CSIs in an alley, and we need paramedics ASAP."

Catherine hurriedly gave the woman the directions, and reinforced the need for her to hurry.  
Hanging up, and stuffing her cell into her pocket, Catherine heard steps behind her.  
Snapping her head around, she saw Nick loping down the alleyway.  
Heaving a sigh, Catherine stood and hobbled on sore knees to Nick.  
"The paramedics are on their way." Catherine motioned towards Greg. "He seems to be okay… But why was he even out here in the first place?" Catherine asked, the question slipping out from her naturally curious behavior.

"I can actually answer that. After you called, I showed the bartender a picture of Greg that I brought with me, and asked if he had seen him yesterday. The bartender said that he had been there last night, and, after getting up on a table and making a speech about a girl and how she had ripped his heart out,"  
Catherine winced.

"The bartender threw Greg out on the street." Nick finished with a glance at Greg's limp body.  
"Wow, that's rough," said a voice from the end of the alley.  
Catherine's head whipped her head around for the second time in the past two minutes.  
Warrick was striding towards them. Catherine's heart clenched.  
"Oh, no."

Catherine could feel tears spring up in the corners of her eyes. Before Warrick, or Nick, could see them, she hunkered back over Greg's motionless body.

"Hey, Warrick. You were quick about getting here. You got here faster than the paramedics."  
"Yeah, well, I was close when I got the call," Warrick said reasonably. Warrick opened his mouth to continue, but he suddenly stopped, his head perked up, listening intently.  
Catherine tilted her head, and her ears caught the sound of a siren.

When Catherine peered at the road to get a glimpse of the ambulance, Warrick caught her eye. He started walking to the back of the alley, motioning with his peculiar-colored eyes to follow.  
Catherine frowned at him. Warrick insisted, again with his eyes. She sighed, and, when Warrick turned around, quickly tried to blink back the ever-present tears.

She walked carefully over to him.  
"What?" Catherine whispered. It came out a little harsher than she had intended, but Warrick hadn't seemed to notice, or care.  
"Listen." He said, his tone making all of her pent-up anger dissolve, but not before a sarcastic, "duh" managed to sneak into her brain.

"Before the hostage was taken, and Brass was shot," Warrick started, Catherine, of course, know what he was talking about," I was supposed to be looking for the suspect in the casino. While I was looking, I saw Tina."  
A tiny ball of fire sprung up in Catherine's heart, and her eyes flashed.  
"I saw Tina," Warrick continued, apparently being so focused on telling his story that he didn't notice, "with another man."

Catherine covered her mouth. She knew how heart-broken Warrick would have been, as it had happened to her with Eddie, and it hurt to think something so painful could happen to someone so sweet.

"So I phoned her up, and, when I asked her where she was, she lied. When I told her was watching her from the security room, watching her lie, she said that she was planning my birthday." Warrick let out a hollow laugh. "And I believed her! Can you believe it?"  
"Warrick, I know what you are going through, okay? I went through it with Eddie. It's painful. But why are you telling me, of all people?" Catherine cut in, before Warrick got carried away. She wanted to get right to the point.

Catherine didn't know whether Warrick had run out of anything else to say, or if he had caught Catherine's meaning, or if he had just read her mind, because the next thing he said was: "When I got home after shift, I unlocked the door, only to find Tina and the guy on our couch, asleep, clothes everywhere but on them."

Catherine's hands returned to her mouth, faster than before, her eyes wide, and very pale.  
"Oh, Warrick…" Catherine trailed off.  
"The reason I'm telling you this is-" Warrick's voice faltered, but he cleared his throat, and continued strongly. "Is because I'm breaking it off with Tina, and, was wondering if your fantasy was still intact." He looked into her eyes, his green eyes sparkling with unshed tears.  
Catherine's eyes filled up with tears instantly, as if they had been waiting for her to get emotional again.

"You know, Warrick, I always imagined you saying that, and what my answer would be," Catherine said, tears streaming from her eyes, onto her rock hard features, "and it was never what I'm about to say…No."

Warrick was shocked. He managed to stutter out a few words: "But I thought you said-"  
Catherine cut him off, "No, Warrick! It's too late! It's too late for apologies, too late a relationship…Too late for me. You put my heart through a shredder, and my fantasy came along for the ride." Catherine began to turn, and then paused. "I used to live my life by never doubting, and never looking back. I just want that back."

As Catherine moved away, towards where Greg was being loaded into the ambulance. Warrick gave one final attempt to try and save her.

"I missed what was right in front of me, Catherine, and I regret that. But you need to know, I'd do anything for you, and that I love you. Just because I was stupid and blind, it doesn't mean that you have to be as well. Don't make the same mistake I did. The ball is in your court. I just hope you make the right decision."

Warrick must have been winded after his long speech, but he showed no sign of it. He stood perfectly still, as if the slightest movement could change Catherine's decision.  
The silence was almost unbearable, but Warrick didn't want to rush her. It was, after all, a big decision.

Lines were stark against Catherine's forehead, resulting from her eyebrows nearly touching. Her lips were pressed together to form a line, and her eyes were equally tight.  
After what felt like eternity, Catherine's stony face twitched. Catherine had finally seemed to come to a decision.

"No matter what you say, or do, my fantasy of us becoming the perfect couple will never be the same."

Warrick was baffled. It didn't sound like a rejection…  
"But, if you are up for it, I think that I could settle for a regular couple." A small smile turned up the corners of Catherine's mouth.

Warrick's heart soared. He gave a laugh of pure elation. The relief and happiness was almost tangible. Warrick reached out, and pulled Catherine towards him. Holding Catherine's face in his hands, he kissed her long and hard. It was the perfect kiss.  
Of course, it didn't last long. As soon as they broke apart, a worried voice came from the mouth of the alley. Nick obviously hadn't noticed his colleges had just kissed. His mind had been on more pressing matters.

"Hey, guys. Where is Grissom?"

TBC...


	10. Prime Suspects

Grissom's hands clenched on the steering wheel, and his foot pressed down harder on the gas pedal. He accelerated through an intersection, and sped down an open stretch of highway.  
Grissom was trying to grasp his thoughts, although he wasn't having much success.  
Suddenly, his cell phone rang. Grissom snatched it out of his pocket, and looked down at the tiny screen on the front.

Catherine.

He turned the phone off, and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. He didn't have enough time to think of a plan as it was.

It's going to be too late, and it is going to have been all your fault, thought the cold part of Grissom's mind.

"You know, by the time you figure it out, it really could be too late."  
Grissom yelped, and wrenched the steering wheel to the right, swerving across a lane of traffic, and nearly off the road. Angry honking of car horns followed Grissom hasty trip to the side of the road.  
He quickly tugged his keys out of the ignition. He sat there, regaining his breath, momentarily forgetting what caused his hand to jerk in the first place.

His heart rate returning somewhere near average, he remember what he had heard, and whipped around to look in the back seat.  
It was empty.

Just to be safe, he got out the vehicle, and checked the trunk. It was clear of any hitchhikers as well.  
He got back into the driver's seat, and slammed the door shut.  
He slid his glasses off his nose, and set them on the dashboard. He could feel the pressure of a new migraine starting up behind his eyes.  
It had sounded so real.

Grissom sighed, and replaced his glasses. Squinting, to readjust his eyes, he gave a breath of relief. He could see the cluster of yellow-white lights that were unheard of on the Strip, and massive, half-full parking lot. The hospital.

Grissom returned the key to the ignition, and turned it.  
The enigmatic entomologist revved the engine once, and pulled back onto the highway.

Catherine snapped her cell phone shut.

"He turned his cell off," Catherine said, and she could feel the collective fear in the air. It was leeching onto everyone, like some sort of disease.

"That means we can't track him with GPS," Nick said, his voice unusually dead. He looked at Warrick, to see if he wanted to add anything.  
He did.

"We might not be able to track him," he said, his voice strong, "but I think I have a pretty good idea of where he's going."

Sara groaned, clicked the TV off, and threw the remote onto the long vacant visitor's chair.  
Sara fell back onto the bed, and let loose another groan.

Why are hospitals so boring? Sara thought angrily. She frowned, and turned to face the wall.  
Her stomach growled, which gave her yet another reason to growl. The last time she ate was with Greg, roughly 24 hours ago.

Hospital food is nauseating. I can't believe they actually make people eat that crap!  
Sara knew that she was complaining a whole lot, but she didn't really care. Nothing seemed to go right anymore.

The door swung open, and Sara jumped, smashing her head onto the headboard.  
Sara winced, and her eyes started to water. She quickly brought her hands up, and wiped them clear.  
Squinting to regain her vision, she looked up at the visitor.  
He was wearing a tawny trench coat, and a wide brimmed hat that was pulled down to cover his forehead. A black glove enclosed one of the man's hands, and Sara noticed that the other hand was in the cavernous pocket of the trench coat. Sara also noted that there was also a large lump at the bottom of the pocket.

"Hello," Sara said warily, not sure what make of this sinister-looking man.  
"Hello, Sara," said the man. His voice was deep, and slightly raspy.  
The ominous man reached behind himself, and pushed the door shut. It bounced off the door frame slightly, but didn't close all the way.

Despite Sara's apprehension, her head perked up. She had heard that voice before, but a long time ago.  
The man tipped his hat up, and pulled a glistening gun out of his pocket. Sara gasped, and shrunk back into her bed.  
"It's me."


	11. Last Chance

A/N: Sorry, our Internet was down... I'm not sure how much longer it will be up until we get it fixed properly, so the next few chapters might take a while to upload! (Sorry for the inconvinence!)

Grissom sprinted into the hospital, nearly taking down a gaggle of old ladies, and a custodian.  
Being slightly more careful in the lobby, Grissom vaguely noticed that the same elderly lady from when Grissom first came here was at the counter again.

"Young man, slow down!" Grissom heard the woman call from behind the counter, but he ignored her completely, and, when he reached the first hallway, actually sped up.  
After what seemed like ceaseless amounts of hallways, and hospital staff, Grissom finally reached Sara's.

Nearly half-way to Sara's room, Grissom noticed that her door was slightly ajar.  
Frowning slightly, he slowed his pace to a jog. When he arrived at Sara's door, he peered through the small, rectangular window inset on the door.

There was a man in a trench coat, and a large hat standing up next to Sara's bed.  
Grissom's heart felt like it was going to break, it hurt so much. He dimly wondered why people didn't make medication for that.

Grissom turned to leave when something glinted in the florescent light.  
He looked back into the room, straining to see what had caught his eye.  
The man had shifted, and Grissom could see Sara's face. His heart stopped.  
She was petrified. Her eyes were wide, and Grissom could see that her bottom lip was shaking uncontrollably.

Grissom's eyes darted back to the man, and his eyes grew large. Glinting deviously in the light was a small caliber pistol.

Grissom gasped. Before he could get a thought edgewise into his clouded mind, Grissom rammed full force into the door, and charged into the room.

A sound like a gunshot echoed through the room.  
Sara screamed, and hit the mattress, flattening her body to make it less of a target. Fighting her natural instinct to hide under the covers, Sara tilted her head to see what had happened.  
There was another man in the room, and he was fighting for the gun.

Suddenly, a shot was fired. The lights flickered, and died. The room was almost pitch black. Somewhere in the fight, the door had been shut, leaving only a small sliver of light where the door met the frame and the small window. Some light had also managed to slip through the curtains.  
Suddenly, the man in the trench coat jerked to the left, and the newcomer pitched into the ray of light from the window. Sara recognized him face instantly.

"GRISSOM!" Sara shouted, swiftly sitting up. Grissom faltered, only for a second, his frantic eyes darting towards Sara, but it was enough for the man in the trench coat.

He viciously swung his arms up and down, effectively shaking Grissom off, and onto the floor.  
Grissom reached up, weakly reaching for the gun. In the feeble light that the window produced, Sara saw the man sneer, and kick Grissom in the gut, making him curl up.

"Stop it!" Sara moaned, her throat tight from fear. "He didn't do anything!"  
Tears flooded down Sara's face, more from fear of Grissom's, or her own safety, Sara couldn't tell.  
The man turned on Sara, his eyes shining in the meager light of the window.

"Didn't do anything?" the man whispered, his voice sending a chill up her sweat-streaked back. "He stole you from me! He just came, and stole you away! He ruined it all!" A fire had lit in his eyes. He cocked the gun, and Sara's heart was going too fast, she thought she was going to have a heart-attack.

"Say good-bye to Mr. Grissom."  
Before Sara could yell out, the man angled the gun downward, and pulled the trigger.  
Sara's scream was drowned out by the sound of the shot. Or, at least, Sara thought she screamed.  
Even afterwards, Sara was sure time had slowed down. Sara's mind felt as if it was filled with molasses.

No…Grissom… Shot… What? Sara could only understand fragments of the thoughts that flashed through her brain.

The murderer's eyes flicked towards Sara's pain-stricken face, a triumphant smile on his lips.

As if that smile had broken some sort of dam, emotions washed into Sara's heart. For all the pain Sara felt in her heart, it might as well have been her who was shot. But there were other emotions as well: Anger. Love. Hate. Sadness. A terrible sadness. Sadness welled up, threatening to overwhelm her.

Sara didn't even notice when the barrel of the gun was pointed at her tear-streaked face until she heard the killer cock it.

Sara's eyes wide with fear looked up into the face of her would-be killer. To her complete surprise, the man had an angry look on his face, as if Sara had done something to wrong him.

Under different circumstances, Sara might have laughed, but, at that moment, Sara felt like screaming and weeping and throwing things. But, of course, she didn't. Fear had paralyzed her.

"You'll be seeing Mr.Grissom sooner than I thought." The man's voice cracked.

"You're a pig," Sara said through clenched teeth.

The man gave a wolfish smile "And you are about to die."

In her mind, Sara felt it. It was so real, Sara half-expected a click. She was ready. This man was about to kill her, and she could do nothing about it. And Sara was okay with it. Her mind was clear, clearer than it had been in years.

Sara watched the killer's finger squeeze the trigger.


	12. Miracles

A/N: Okay, first of all, I would like to apologize a MILLION times for taking freaking forever to give you guys this chapter. I'M SO SORRY!!!!! Also, on a different note, I had to use Sara's profile on to get some info, so you might wanna check that out to get all of it…( Hehe, but most of you probably already have all the profiles memorized, right?)

Again, so sorry!

BANG!

The deafening sound ripped through her ears, leaving a painful ringing sound. Sara's eyes were squeezed shut. For about a second, Sara was confused. She knew that head-shots were supposedly next to painless, but shouldn't she of felt _something_?

Sara let out a small whimper, and opened her eyes. The shooter was sinking to his knees. The gun he was holding slipped out of his grasp, and clunked dully onto the floor. His eyes were already glazed over with death.

Without a second to lose, Sara slithered to the floor and snatched up the gun. It was still warm. A chill rose up Sara' back, but she shook it off.

Suddenly, the doorknob turned, and the door was flung open.

Sara rapidly raised the gun. "I have a gun! Come in with your arms above your head!"

She had intended for her voice to sound powerful, at the least, threatening, but it came out as little more than a whisper.

"Sara?" a familiar voice called from the hallway.

"Warrick?!" Sara cried, scrambling to her feet. Warrick stepped through the doorway. "Oh my God, Warrick!" Sara raced over and threw her arms around him.

"Watch your feet!" Warrick cautioned. Sara noticed for the first time that glass fragments littered the linoleum floor, and the small window inset into the door was blown out. The sound of the glass breaking must have been covered by the sound of the gun, thought Sara numbly.

"Grissom got shot. We need a doctor." Sara informed Warrick gravely, breaking away from Warrick to kneel by Grissom.

Cupping his face with her hand, Sara felt for a pulse. It was there, weak, but there.

"He's still alive!" Sara yelled to Warrick. He jumped into action, running into the now-crowded hall.

"WE NEED A DOCTOR!" Warrick bellowed over the panicked voices that filled the corridor. "WE HAVE A CSI DOWN!"

**Epilogue**

As it turns out, the profile that Nick, Greg and Catherine created had been very close indeed. The attacker, Samson Jodes, had been in several of Sara's classes at Harvard. They had always competed for the teacher's attention, and, in the long run, had become something like friends. After graduation, Sara went on to graduate school for theoretical physics, and Sam went to go into the field of forensics, but they still stayed in touch. Sara soon realized that life as a theoretical physicist was not for her, and, one year later, got a job in a coroner's office in San Fran. Sam was ecstatic, and, for the next five years, gave Sara impromptu lessons in forensics, until she was transferred into the San Francisco crime lab. Sara worked there for several years, until that fateful day when Grissom phoned and asked her to come to Las Vegas. She dropped everything, and, without even a goodbye, hopped on the next plane to Vegas.

Samson was heartbroken. After a few months, he dropped out of his job as a CSI, severed all connections with friends, and went under the radar. He lost his integrity, his money, his job and, when he thought could lose no more, he lost his mind. For 6 years, he went deeper and deeper inside of himself, losing all feelings. But the one thought that stayed with him was: this was Grissom's fault. He had loved her, been her best friend, helped her along, and she left without saying goodbye. He was going to get revenge.

The headboard of Grissom's hospital bed bumped gently to a stop against the wall, and he cringed. Sara grinned weakly as the nurse scurried out of the room.

"It seems the nurses don't find us all that charming," joked Sara wryly, "but, really, who can blame them?"

Grissom smirked back. "Well, I don't know who couldn't find you charming, Miss Sidle."

Grissom looked at Sara expectantly, waiting for some kind of sarcastic remark, but instead was greeted a confused face, and a far-off look. Grissom frowned slightly.

"Sara? What's wrong? Did I say something?" he asked worriedly, although he had no idea what he had said to offend her.

_Great,_ he thought plaintively_, I'm with her for half a minute, and, already, she is angry with me. _

Sara looked over at him. "Well, sort of." Grissom opened him mouth automatically to apologize, but Sara raised her hand to halt him.

"Not directly, it just made me think about how, last week, Mr. Jodes," Sara refused to call him Sam, because she said the friend she knew died a long time ago, and this was just a scary memory of the man, "said that you, "stole me away from him", and well… the guys said that he either loved me or hated me. When I used to hang out with, um, _him_ when we were at Harvard, he never tried anything, um, romantic, but, the first year that we knew each other, we didn't really appeal to one another... But him saying that you "stole me away from him" makes it seem like he was in love with me."

Before Grissom could even think, words her would never say if he hadn't been still a little dopey because of the pain killers came out of his mouth:"The feeling is mutual."

By the time she could comprehend what Grissom had just said, the door swung open, and Sara flinched. Even after a week after the shooting, every time the door opened, she jumped.

The team trooped in, carrying muffins and coffee. Greg, who was on crutches after apparently getting sliced with a broken beer bottle down the alley, hobbled into the room after everyone else, and sat heavily on the guest chair next to Grissom. He still felt a little weird around Sara, but she couldn't blame him. All she could hope was that he would eventually forgive her.

"Oh, man, these things kill your armpits!" He exclaimed, leaning the crutches against the wall. After massaging them for a few seconds, he gratefully accepted a cup of coffee and a banana muffin from Catherine.

"Well, maybe it's because you aren't supposed to lean on them so hard," Brass said irritably.

Greg gave him a sour look. "Maybe," he grumbled under his breath.

As he and Brass continued their brotherly bantering, Sara glanced over at Grissom, who was still staring at her with his intense blue eyes, waiting for some sort of sign.

Sara's smile was faint, so not to attract the attention of the team, but warm, and Grissom's face flooded with relief.

Sara's hand reached out from under the covers to grasp Grissom's.

And so they sat, in a room full of friends, and Sara couldn't help but think, _"Things are definitely looking up." _

Final Note: Thank you all for the spectacular reviews, I REALLY appreciate them. This is the longest story I've ever written, and I hope there will be many more like it in the future.


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